


take off your colours

by glitteratiglue



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bucky is a sappy bastard, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-21 13:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4831583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteratiglue/pseuds/glitteratiglue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fact is, there are things Bucky loves even more than the patriotic red, white and blue of Captain America's uniform: the red of Steve's lips, spit-slick and shiny with Bucky's kisses; the white of Steve's wrists when they're pinned against the wall; the blue of finger-shaped bruises on Steve's hips from a metal hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take off your colours

**Author's Note:**

> PWP. So much porn. I can't explain this.

Bucky is waiting in the shadows when Steve walks into their apartment.

He might be near three hundred pounds of muscle and sinew, but Bucky's got hiding in plain sight down to a fine art. He can make himself small, stay absolutely still without moving a muscle - and if he's got a black t-shirt and black sweatpants on instead of the tac suit, it still works the same. Slightly less menacing, of course.

“Bucky?” calls Steve.

In the gloom, Bucky's sharp eyes can't fail to see the way Steve lights up like the sun at the thought he might be home. His stomach does a somersault.

“Bucky?"

He watches Steve toss his keys on the hall table and stretch. Even in the faint light through the hall window - it's almost dark outside - Bucky doesn't miss the disappointment on Steve's face when he figures out he's not here.

It's been a slow afternoon; he hasn't got a mission until next week and Steve has been stuck in debriefing hell all day at the tower. Taking Steve by surprise is just a bit of fun. Maybe it's a little cruel, but it's one of the many ways they love to tease each other. Bucky plans on playing the long game, waiting for a moment when Steve's guard is down to reveal himself. The mere thought of that makes his cock ache; he shifts uncomfortably, letting out a shallow, measured breath like he's readying a sniper rifle for firing.

There's just one snag in Bucky's plan, a variable he hasn't anticipated.

Steve is wearing his Captain America suit; the new stars-and-stripes version that fits to his body in a way that's borderline obscene. On recent missions, Bucky has ended up spending far too much time admiring Steve's sculpted ass and thighs. From a tactical standpoint, it's highly distracting.

Except maybe Steve has his own plan, because he normally leaves the suit at the tower. He also knows _exactly_ what it does to Bucky.

Standing there, not three feet from Bucky, Steve reaches for the neck zip of the suit and starts to pull it down.

It's enough to break Bucky's control. With one step and a carefully-timed full body slam, he crowds Steve against the wall with a crash that might have cracked the plaster (not that he gives a shit right now).

“Agh!” Steve lets out this hilarious noise of surprise, his body tensing, but there's recognition there, of the familiar body on his. He relaxes. “Mmm. Bucky.”

Bucky laughs and kisses Steve with bruising force, licks into his mouth and bites down on his lip until Steve moans and kisses back just as hard. He strokes Steve's biceps where he has them pinned to the wall, grinds his hips into him so Steve can feel him, hot and hard through the sweatpants. Steve grabs at his ass with one gauntlet-covered hand and the other is in Bucky's hair, twisting a fistful of it in a way that makes him yelp and lightning shoot straight to his cock.

Though Bucky moans a little, he doesn't stop kissing Steve, breathless and hot - he knows how to focus, to zero in on one thing and let the world fall away - like it's his mission. He kisses Steve the way he deserves to be kissed, full of the all-consuming want he's always had for him - the want that burned under Bucky's skin even when Steve was ninety-five pounds soaking wet.

Back then, Steve thought no-one wanted him, but Bucky did. Bucky wanted him so much it ached. He tried to make up for everything else all those nights he laid Steve out on their narrow bed and pressed secret kisses into his skin, worshipped his skinny ribs and sharp hipbones with lips and tongue. Sometimes Bucky would forget himself and tell Steve he was beautiful, perfect. Steve would scowl and call him a sap, tell him he'd better fuck him soon or he'd kick him out of bed.

Steve Rogers has always been a little shit, but that's never stopped Bucky from loving him like crazy, even back then when he should have known better.

Steve pulls back from his lips, chest heaving and reaches for the waistband of Bucky's pants. Bucky makes a grab for his hands and holds them still.

“No.”

“No?” Steve swallows, a flash of irritation in his eyes that sends a pulse of fire straight down the length of Bucky's cock.

These days, Steve is constantly bombarded with the idea that everyone is dying to fuck him: propositions in the street, complete strangers kissing him, not to mention all the dirty tumblr manips and hundreds of obscene tweets he receives on a daily basis. It doesn't make Bucky as jealous as he thought it might: rather, smug, because he's the one who gets to have Steve. They might want, but he _gets_.

In their bedroom (or hallway, for that matter), Steve isn't Captain America. He's _Bucky's,_ and fuck if that doesn't make Bucky hard beyond all sense or reason.

“Take it off,” Bucky says roughly. He lets go of Steve's hands. “Right here. Strip.”

He pushes at Steve's chest and takes a step back, waiting.

Steve is looking at him with naked desire in his eyes. He strips the uniform off carelessly, unbuckling straps and tugging down zips carelessly enough to damage them.

 _Wouldn't be the first uniform that's needed a repair_ , thinks Bucky with a smirk. His eyes follow Steve's every movement, greedy with longing and the need to see all of him.

There are three colours on the floor in one heap of bunched-up fabric, then nothing in the way of completely naked Steve. Bucky is aware he's ogling him openly, and _God,_ there's so much more to Steve than this enhanced body, always was, but that doesn't mean the sight can't take his breath away, every time.

Steve's chest is gleaming with sweat and Bucky licks his lips at the sight of Steve's dick, solid and already slick with pre-come. Steve meets Bucky's eyes, unafraid and with a look that says _come on, then._

It doesn't take more than a look from Steve for a still fully-clothed Bucky to get down on his knees. He's been gone on Steve since they were kids, would do anything for him and it's a truth Bucky can't even be ashamed of.

He's Steve's, just as much as Steve is his: that's the way it's always been. He's never been able to deny him anything, not when it's something he wants, too.

The taut muscles of Steve's abdomen ripple under Bucky's tongue when he traces patterns and follows them up with gentle bites that make Steve pant, clutch at his shoulder.

His other hand reaches for Bucky's hair, stroking across his scalp in a way that's sweet and possessive at the same time. When Bucky sucks a bruise into Steve's hip, Steve shakes against him, because though he wouldn't admit to it, he _loves_ being marked by Bucky.

Then Bucky takes Steve into his mouth in one deep swallow, slides down the length until he's nosing at the soft curls between his legs. It takes everything he has not to gag when Steve's cock nears the back of his throat, but Bucky's had practice at this. He can handle it.

He looks up to see Steve with his eyes squeezed shut, hears a shallow breath escape him. It's addictive, the power he has over Steve like this. Bucky could do this all day, suck Steve off for hours until he's a panting mess under his mouth and hands and he'd still never get enough of it, not for a second.

Steve feels thick and heavy on his tongue. Bucky licks into the slit of his cock and tastes the salt-sharpness of him, pausing when Steve lets out a strangled moan. Running his hands up Steve's strong thighs, he can feel them trembling already, like Steve can barely keep upright.

One thing's for certain: Steve won't be upright by the time he's finished with him.

“Fuck,” Steve cries, the hand in Bucky's hair becoming more insistent in its grip, pulling him closer. He bites off a choked groan when Bucky draws back with a wet pop, then takes him deep enough to hit the back of his throat.

As the seconds pass, Bucky applies himself, licking around the head and scraping teeth just a little, the way Steve likes it. It makes Steve hiss out a sharp breath and increase the pressure on his shoulder.

Bucky loves this, he _loves_ it; taking Steve apart with flicks and soft presses of his tongue, making him beg for release. The front of his sweatpants are damp where he's leaking all over them, but there'll be time enough for that later.

Steve is thrusting against his mouth, nails digging into Bucky's shoulder and the other hand twisted in his dark hair.

Then Bucky stops, because he's that fucking _evil_.

He smiles around a mouthful of Steve's dick when he whimpers, loud and needy. For a quiet, unassuming person who hates to draw attention to himself, Steve can't half make a noise in the bedroom.

It's Bucky that _makes_ him loud. Back in their tiny pre-war apartment, Bucky would clap a hand over Steve's mouth to stop him moaning like a whore and announcing to all the neighbours that they were screwing. Truth was, he wanted to hear those sounds more than anything and he hated that they had to hide them.

Reaching up with his left hand to cup Steve's balls, he can feel them tightening, knows he's on the cusp. Bucky pulls off with a wet sound.

“Bucky, _please.”_ Steve's voice is wrecked and pleading, his cock swollen and shiny with spit and the slick of his arousal.

He squeezes at Steve's balls with the metal hand and Steve moans low, hips pushing up into nothing while Bucky's flesh hand keeps him still against the wall.

“Think how good it'll feel when I finally let you come,” Bucky tells Steve with a soothing bite to his thigh, follows it up with a pass of his tongue.

Steve's glare is murderous, but Bucky knows he gets off on this. Steve _needs_ this, to give himself over to someone and relinquish control. He trusts Bucky entirely, and when Bucky thinks about all the things he's done, that's a goddamn miracle in itself. He'll never take it for granted.

Bucky finds himself saying in a rush of feeling, “You're beautiful like this.”

“You're still a fuckin' sap,” Steve growls, pulls Bucky's hair hard enough that it smarts. “You'd better put that pretty mouth back on my cock if you know what's good for you.”

Sometimes Bucky thinks he teases Steve just to hear him talk like this: it's fucking hot.

He starts all over again, sucks Steve down to the hilt, one hand pressed flat to his stomach because he knows that makes it more intense. The muscles tauten under his hand and it's almost like he can touch the searing tension inside Steve, tight as a bow-string ready to snap.

Bucky's not ready for it to snap, not yet; he hasn't broken Steve quite enough.

Fact is, there are things Bucky loves even more than the patriotic red, white and blue of Captain America's uniform: the red of Steve's lips, spit-slick and shiny with Bucky's kisses; the white of Steve's wrists when they're pinned against the wall; the blue of finger-shaped bruises on Steve's hips from a metal hand. The bruises always fade by the time the sweat cools on their skin. Afterwards, Bucky traces the ghosts of the marks with his hands and mouth: he might not remember everything about his old life, but he can always recall exactly where he chooses to mark Steve as his own.

And of course, he loves the way he can dismantle all of Steve's false propriety, piece by piece until there's nothing left but a raw scream ripped from his throat.

He holds Steve off a couple more times, until he's sweaty, breathless and whimpering with every lick and suck.

“Gonna come for me now?” Bucky breathes out over Steve's cock, digs the metal fingers into his hip with bruising pressure and sucks him down one more time.

Steve pulses in his mouth and comes hot and hard, right down the back of his throat with a cry of Bucky's name. Bucky licks him clean, gentle as he can, mindful that he's probably made him oversensitive as all hell.

Careful hands push Bucky's hair off his face. The small tenderness of Steve's hands in his hair makes something inside Bucky ache that's nothing to do with his painful arousal. Bucky presses a soft kiss to the blooming bruise on Steve's hip and lets go of him.

Without the weight of Bucky's hands to hold him, Steve starts to slide down the wall, spreading his knees shamelessly like he's already begging to be fucked. He was always easy like that, for Bucky: some things never change.

Bucky straightens up. For a minute he thinks Steve's just going to stay there, slumped against the wall and panting, but then he's on his feet.

There's no time to react before an arm wraps around Bucky's waist. Steve turns him, and Bucky feels wet, pliant lips pressed to his shoulder. The naked body molded to Bucky's back is so hot against him that he sighs. Steve's warm fingers snake under the hem of his t-shirt, and Bucky feels his abdominal muscles jump at the touch.

There are so many more things he wants of Steve before the evening's out, but Bucky's not about to argue, not when he's hot, flushed and near-bursting with the need to come.

“Gonna touch you,” Steve breathes into the shell of his ear - if he was wrecked just a second ago, now he sounds downright determined. Bucky grits his teeth, his cock throbbing painfully at the seam of his pants, because Steve saying that is almost enough to get him off.

At any rate, by the time Steve shoves a hand down his pants and wraps sure fingers around his cock, he's almost there. Everything under Bucky's skin is liquid fire and after just a few touches, he's panting out shallow breaths and pushing into the tight grasp of Steve's fingers. With a sharp gasp, he comes hot and thick all over Steve's hand. Steve keeps going until Bucky sighs heavily, leaning into the warm body at his back just to stay upright.

“Fuck,” is all Bucky can say, because he's burning up, thoroughly undone just from Steve's hand on his dick.

Steve laughs in his ear, throaty and low, wipes his hand off on the front of Bucky's pants. “Was gonna suggest that. And you need to take these clothes off.”

Bucky can feel Steve's already hard against him again - it's not like either of them have had much of a refractory period since the experimentation on their bodies - and shivers at the promise in his words.

They stumble to the bedroom and Steve switches on the lamp. Bucky pulls off his t-shirt and stained sweatpants easily, lets Steve push him back on to the bed and crawl over him.

He winds fingers around the back of Steve's neck and kisses him, languid and open and tender. Steve sucks at his tongue and it sparks at Bucky's desire, makes his cock harden and his insides melt into a puddle of need.

“Need you." Bucky huffs against Steve's lips, tries to move, but there's a hand on his hip, holding him dead still.

“After what you just did?” Steve's smile is gently reproving and more than a little smug when his fingers pinch at Bucky's nipple, sharp and _so_ good. “I've got other plans, Bucky.”

And damn, when was Steve supposed to be the one with plans? Bucky is fairly certain he was planning to suck Steve to within an inch of his life and then fuck him into the mattress, but after a mind-blowing orgasm, he's less certain he cares about his original plans. He's of the opinion that Steve can do whatever he wants, really.

It's searing hot where their bodies are pressed together, Steve a comforting weight on top of him, as if Bucky can pull him into their own private world where nothing matters but the two of them, here. 

There's an uncomfortable stickiness between his legs from earlier and it might be gross if Bucky even cared at all; he doesn't.

Steve flips him over and presses hot kisses down the length of his spine, bites at the dimples just above his ass that Bucky knows Steve's got a thing for. Bucky moans, can't even be ashamed of the sounds he's making.

Bucky'll take anything Steve offers - always has, always will - because he's shameless when it comes to Steve.

As Steve's tongue darts out to lick at his hip, Bucky pants out a long breath into the pillow. Insistent hands push at the backs of Bucky's bent knees and force him to open up, leaving him exposed and aching with anticipation.

When Steve rubs a thumb at his hole, Bucky tenses because he's so fucking sensitive and tight after coming. He should have known Steve would pay no heed. The bastard had always taken a perverse delight in finding Bucky's limits and pushing at them.

In 1938, the first time he went down on him, Steve had kept right on going after he'd come, ignoring Bucky's protests that he was too sensitive. Somehow, he'd licked him hard again, until Bucky was coming a second time in painful spurts down Steve's throat.

Those big hands spread his cheeks, and Bucky can't breathe. Steve tongues a long line from the base of his spine down to the crease of his ass, stopping just short of where he wants him. Bucky can hardly think from longing - and _God,_ if only everyone knew how much time Steve Rogers spends with his tongue in Bucky's hole, like he was born to do it.

He whimpers. “ _Please.”_ Steve always likes to hear him beg.

At the first push of Steve's tongue inside, Bucky shoves a fist against his own mouth. Immediately, the wet heat of Steve is gone and Bucky finds himself whimpering, on the verge of begging for what he wants.

“No,” Steve says fiercely. Bucky takes the hand away from his mouth, twists his head around to the sight of Steve between his legs. “I want to hear you. I'm gonna lick you until you come again and you're begging for me to stop. Then I'm gonna fuck you 'til you can't remember a thing except for how I feel in you.” Steve's voice is about as rough as he's ever heard it, and he's looking away from Bucky, flushed, but he means every word.

“Okay,” Bucky says weakly, drops his head to the pillow and braces both hands on the sheets.

Steve's tongue circles his hole, gently teasing and Bucky lets out a dirty moan. He needs more, wants more, can't stop himself lifting his ass, trying to push against the dead weight of Steve's palms holding him still. Then Steve licks into him and Bucky's scrabbling at the sheets for purchase, grinding his cock into the mattress. The sounds as Steve's mouth works him are wet, sloppy; the sounds he'd never admit he dreams about. He gasps into the pillow, spreads his thighs wider, offering himself to Steve.

Without warning, Steve pushes two fingers inside and licks around the rim of his hole, slick with saliva. The tension coils tight in the pit of Bucky's stomach, Steve crooks his fingers just right and he's emptying himself all over the sheets, shaking through another orgasm.

Just when he's had enough, Steve keeps those fingers there and twists them, dragging out the mind-bending pleasure until Bucky can't take it anymore and chokes out, “Stop, stop, I can't.”

Bucky's knees give way and he collapses onto the bed, boneless and slack. He hears Steve laugh, because he told him he was going to beg and Bucky knew he'd do whatever Steve asked him to, without question.

With a push, Steve rolls him over and he finds himself staring into those eyes, at Steve's mouth and chin, reddened and wet all over. It makes Bucky feel hot everywhere, the feral way Steve's looking at him. _Fuck_ , he must look a mess, damp hair falling in his eyes and soaked in sweat, but through Steve's eyes, he's perfect. The sort of perfect that Steve is to him.

There's always been something about Steve that makes even the dirtiest act so sweet that it turns Bucky inside out, _wrecks_ him. Steve waited all those months while Bucky barely spoke and tried to deal with the demons rattling inside his head. He waited and watched and never pushed for a second while Bucky struggled to tell him that while he might have lost so much to the ether of time, he'd never forgotten that he loved him.

It's been months since the night they found each other again, and though Bucky still has his bad days, he enjoys his good ones to the hilt. Epic sex with Steve is a common feature of good days, and one that Bucky feels as though he thoroughly deserves.

“Okay there?” Steve smiles, and the lamplight catches his sandy-golden hair. He still looks somehow put-together despite the wetness all over his chin and the glassy look in his eyes; there are hints of charming, clean-cut Captain America even in that shiny red mouth and messed-up hair. Steve grabs a corner of the sheet and wipes his mouth off with a smirk.

 _Fuck, he's mine_ , Bucky finds himself thinking, reverent and adoring. He removes the lazy, sappy smile from his face, because Steve will tease him mercilessly if he figures out what's on his mind.

Steve kisses him, one hand on his chest and Bucky curls into it, chasing the warmth and anchor of him. It's wet and messy and Bucky can taste himself, but Steve strokes a hand down his face, wearing the soft expression Bucky had just a second ago, and Bucky forgets everything but Steve's lips, the feel of heated skin under his hands. Bucky melts against him, closes his eyes and rests his forehead on Steve's.

“Love you,” says Steve. He rarely says it like this, usually only murmurs it into the dip of Bucky's shoulders when they fall asleep together. It's breathtaking, the way Steve is looking at him. Bucky's heart pounds in his chest, reminding him with every unsteady beat how lucky he is to have this, to have _Steve_.

“Love you too, you sap,” he says quietly, plants a kiss on Steve's ear.

Steve just laughs, a deep rumbling against Bucky's skin, and pulls him into his arms. Bucky slides his hands up and down Steve's back, strokes at the sweat-damp skin and smiles into his shoulder, happy and content.

If only his dick was as content. It's not enough that he's already come twice, his cock has to start stirring with interest the second Steve's hand drifts towards his ass and squeezes gently.

“Seem to remember you promising me something else, Rogers,” Bucky says with a playful bite to Steve's neck that has him shuddering in his arms.

There's a pinkness in Steve's cheeks when Bucky pulls back to regard him, and he almost wants to laugh. Steve sure can pick his moments to get embarrassed - he's been eating Bucky out for the past twenty minutes and yet the mention of fucking makes him blush like a schoolgirl.

“C'mon.” Bucky lies back on the sheets, draws up a knee with a lewd smile. It's not like Steve even looks surprised at this wanton display of need, because he's always known how much Bucky needed him, right from the start.

Turning away to grab the lube on the bedside table, Steve slicks up his cock with shaking hands. Bucky watches, throbbing with wanting Steve inside him, around him, as physically close as it's possible for two people to be. When they're together like this, it's the one time Bucky can kid himself that he's the person he used to be. When Steve moves inside him, he can let that goodness, the _rightness_ of Steve seep under his skin and wash away all the darkness in his heart.

Steve lets out a slow, deep-drawn breath at seeing Bucky like this, open and completely vulnerable for him. “You ready?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, with good reason: he feels slick, open and aching from Steve's attentions. “Kidding me? I've never been more ready. Now get up here and fuck me.”

For once, the stubborn son of a bitch does as he's told. Steve bends his knees, wraps a hand around Bucky's thigh and then he presses inside - just the tip.

Bucky exhales, relaxes into the aching burn of Steve pushing inside and wraps his legs around him, trying to pull him closer. Steve leans in to brush lips against his neck and Bucky clenches his jaw with a soft sound. Steve's other hand flattens out over his chest, near the join scars where metal meets flesh, feeling for Bucky's erratic heartbeat. Moaning already, Bucky rocks his hips and Steve takes the hint. He starts up a slow, steady rhythm that sends Bucky reeling, makes him press his ankles into Steve's thighs to try and ground himself in the onslaught of pleasure.

It's simple, nowhere near as playful as they sometimes get - and super-soldier strength means they've tried their share of gravity-defying positions - but for now, it's everything. It's all Bucky wants, the slick slide of their bodies and the way Steve's hips roll into his with the perfect pressure, wrecking him with every thrust.

Reaching up, Bucky clasps Steve's hand in his metal fingers and lifts his ass off the bed, pushing back at him. It's almost too much, the thread of arousal pulling taut in his belly when he's already come twice, the edge of pleasure where it meets pain that hurts just enough to feel good.

Bucky feels spread apart by Steve, broken open with each long, smooth drag of his cock inside him. The heated slap of skin meeting skin echoes in his ears, the only sound but for Steve's quiet gasps against his shoulder, his cheek, the corners of his lips.

Steve's mouth is burning hot on his neck as he starts to lose control. He fucks him hard and fast and Bucky arches into him, meeting him thrust for thrust. His flesh hand grabs at Steve's ass, urging him on as the pace picks up. The pressure sensors of Bucky's left hand tell him he's gripping Steve's hand with bone-crushing strength, but he can't bring himself to care at this point. Steve's hand slips on his sweat-slick chest and Bucky holds it there, pushes up against Steve to find the angle that'll tip him over the edge.

With a broken gasp of _“Bucky”_ against his shoulder, Steve comes, hot and wet and sudden, pressing Bucky into the mattress with his bulk.

Bucky strokes Steve's back, soothing him through it while every part of him is humming with his own impending climax.He's on the edge, can feel his balls tightening and the muscles of his back locking up with the tension. He needs to come so badly, needs this, needs Steve -

“C'mon, Buck, come for me,” says Steve, his tone determined even if his voice is ragged, body still shaking with the remnants of his release.

Steve's other hand reaches up from the sheets to palm Bucky's cock while he rocks inside him. It's enough; Bucky follows him into a shattering climax, quaking and arching against him as he tightens around Steve's cock, spurting all over his stomach and Steve's hand with a quiet moan. Steve kisses him through it, open-mouthed and gentle, swallowing every one of Bucky's soft moans until he jerks against him one final time.

Still cotton-wool weak and trembling, Bucky lets his legs fall back to the sheets. He's breathing deeply, with wet eyes and a skittering heartbeat when Steve raises a head and kisses him again. Bucky's lips sting with all the attention they've had, and if it hurts a little, he'll take it anyway, especially when Steve is being so freely affectionate like this.

Bucky takes Steve's hand and kisses the bruises on his knuckles, making him shiver. There's stickiness running down the inside of Bucky's thighs, but he ignores it; they can shower later. He rolls onto his side and pulls Steve against him, nuzzles into the crook of his elbow - and maybe he's being overly cuddly, but he doesn't even care. He went seventy years without Steve's warm touch and he'll take anything he can get. Besides, he knows it doesn't really annoy Steve - though he's too stubborn to ever admit to it, he's just as much of a cuddle-hound as Bucky.

“Sap.” Steve's voice is faint and sleep-soft in his ear.

“Shut the hell up,” Bucky growls. He kisses the inside of Steve's elbow, and feels him smile against his shoulder.

“Did I already say I love you, jerk? 'Cause I do,” murmurs Steve, throws a leg over Bucky's so they're tangled up together.

“Yeah, you did, Steve.” Bucky tries to sound curt, but amusement bleeds through in his tone. “Sex really does a number on your brain, doesn't it? It's worrying when _I'm_ the one with the more reliable memory.”

That makes Steve pull Bucky closer - and well, maybe Bucky said it on purpose. He'll be the first to admit he can be a selfish bastard when it comes to Steve Rogers. It's not as if he hasn't earned the right be selfish, somewhere between the torture and the years he spent being HYDRA's pawn.

“You've gotta stop jumping me in the dark, Buck. It's creepy.”

Bucky laughs like a drain, shaking against Steve. “Not like you don't fucking love it.”

“Mmm,” says Steve; it's as good as a yes as far as Bucky's concerned.

“Love you too, punk,” he tells him, presses a kiss to Steve's elbow where it rests on his chest. “And not just 'cause I won't be able to walk tomorrow.”

Bucky falls asleep in Steve's arms. He wakes up in crunchy sheets, stuck to him, sore and in dire need of a shower.

 _Beyond worth it_ , he thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> May or may not be the dirtiest thing I've ever written. Ye gods, these boys. Can't handle them *gross sobbing*.  
> N.B: I don't usually tag so thoroughly, but I thought I should for fear of squicking anyone.


End file.
